doing what she had no right to do, and that she might some day be
walked off to Galway assizes. Then again, she had an absurd pride about
it, which often made her declare that she'd never be beat by such a
"scum of the 'arth" as Barry Lynch, and that she'd fight it out with
him if it cost her a hundred pounds; though no one understood what the
battle was which she was to fight.

Just before Anty's illness had become so serious, Daly called, and had
succeeded in reconciling both Martin and the widow to himself; but he
had not quite made them agree to his proposal. The widow, indeed, was
much averse to it. She wouldn't deal with such a Greek as Barry, even
in the acceptance of a boon. When she found him willing to compromise,
she became more than ever averse to any friendly terms; but now the
whole ground was slipping from under her feet. Anty was dying: she
would have had her trouble for nothing; and that hated Barry would gain
his point, and the whole of his sister's property, in triumph.

Twenty times the idea of a will had come into her mind, and how
comfortable it would be if Anty would leave her property, or at any
rate a portion of it, to Martin. But though the thoughts of such a
delightful arrangement kept her in a continual whirlwind of anxiety,
she never hinted at the subject to Anty. As she said to herself, "a
Kelly wouldn't demane herself to ask a brass penny from a Lynch." She
didn't even speak to her daughters about it, though the continual
twitter she was in made them aware that there was some unusual burthen
on her mind.

It was not only to the Kellys that the idea occurred that Anty in her
illness might make a will. The thoughts of such a catastrophe had
robbed Barry of half the pleasure which the rumours of his sister's